Scooby Snacks
by onehellofashot
Summary: Oneshot. Buffy/Spike. Rated M just to be safe. Scooby Snacks • n. [skoo-bee snaks]: 1. A blunt or cigar that is rolled with a big mouth piece which in turn causes weed to go in your mouth when you hit it. 2. The ashes in ones mouth after smoking marijuana out of a pipe.


**Scooby Snacks**

Buffy sat alone on her couch with a frown on her face. In her hand was a glaring piece of paper with a glaring number sitting at the bottom. Before... everything that happened, she would have freaked out. Now, she felt nothing; a numb buzzing was all that she could find in her brain. _This should matter_, she thought to herself. _This should be the end of the world. I should be crying and worrying and all I can think about is... nothing._ The bill fell from her hand and onto the floor, and she closed her eyes. Her mind wandered into the warm light that she still kept in the back of her brain. Heaven, as she liked to call it, was _her_ place now; something that nobody else knew of. It was all color and feeling there; she just floated in nothing and everything at the same time, every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire and frozen at the same time, it smelled of her mother's old perfume there. Whenever she drifted off, it was as close as she could come to feeling anything.

She had been like that for so long that she must have fallen asleep because by the time she had woken up, it was dark outside. She stood up, leaving bills strewn across the floor and the coffee table, grabbed her jacket and walked out the door. The air was cool and a breeze blew through her hair; a nice change from the stuffy house. Buffy couldn't have reached the cemetery soon enough; it was weird but it was like a home to her. She roamed aimlessly, her stake dangling loosely from her hands. The graveyard was... deader than usual; she got so little action that at one point, it felt like she was taking a stroll. After a couple of hours, she finally decided to leave, but something stopped her. Something was in the air... the smell of a lit cigarette.

"Spike?" she called.

He emerged from behind a tall gravestone, the stench of the cigarette coming from his hand, "Buffy."

"Were you following me?"

He took another long drag before responding, "I live here... it's not exactly unheard of for me to be roaming around."

"Fair enough," she shrugged, turning back to her previous route.

Spike threw his roach to the ground, having to run to catch up to her. "So... how's... you know?"

"Do I?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "You know bloody well what I'm talking about."

She sighed, looking down at the ground. "It's fine. You know, not exactly heaven, but I manage."

He nodded his head, debating whether or not he should light another cigarette. "You haven't told anybody still?"

"No... and I don't plan on it."

He turned to look at her, awkwardly patting a hand against his back. "I'm sorry."

She didn't respond to the gesture, even though she was glad he didn't ask if she was alright. Instead, she turned to face him, "Willow has been worried... you know, about me, so they're all getting together at my house tonight. Dawn's staying at a friend's house, so I'm sure they're going to try something crazy... you can come if you want."

Spike's eyes widened at the invitation, "Well, you know how I'd hate to disappoint the others by showing up."

"They'll get over it," she shrugged.

He hesitated as she started to walk away, but the picture of Xander's face drove him forward. "You think there'll be booze?" he smirked.

Willow paced nervously in the kitchen, checking and rechecking the the snacks that sat on the counter. "This is a bad idea," she called into the living room.

Tara laughed, looking through music to put in the CD player. "Calm down," she called back. "Y-you need this time with Buffy."

"What if she's mad?" Willow frowned, her eyebrows lacing together. By this time Tara was in the kitchen, a nervous look on her face.

"It's f-fine, Willow. It's just a-a get together."

"A _special_ get together."

Tara pulled Willow into her arms, burrowing in her soft hair. "Exactly. This is a special get together to make Buffy *especially* happy."

Willow sighed, her body relaxing back into Tara's body, "Buffy just isn't used to stuff like this."

"It's too late now," Tara smiled. "We already bought the food."

They heard the front door open and Willow squeaked, Tara grabbed her hand, giving her a reassuring nod before directing her into the living room. "H-hi, Buffy," Willow breathed. A moment later, Spike followed her through the door to the surprise of both the girls. "Spike..."

He gave a nod, but said nothing. Buffy laughed uncomfortably, "I found him on patrol, and I invited him... I hope that's okay."

Tara smiled, "If y-you want him here, that's fine with us, r-right Willow?"

Willow nodded uncomfortably, giving Spike a smile before gesturing to the kitchen. "We got snacks and stuff! There's a little beer in the fridge, but Xander is bringing more."

Buffy feigned a smile, "This'll be fun, Will. Thanks."

Xander came in then, Anya linked to his arm. He held up a large case of beers in his other arm, smiling. Anya already held an open can in her hands, "We brought the drinks to get us all really drunk, but they were really quite expensive, and I'm not sure we should be the only ones responsible for pay-"

"We brought drinks!" Xander interrupted, nudging Anya gently with his elbow. He laughed nervously, but the smile fell from his face at the sight of Spike. "What's he doing here?"

"Buffy invited him," Willow said, her eyes widening at him as if to send him a message. _Be nice_. Xander sighed, going to the kitchen without saying another word. Willow turned back to Buffy, biting her bottom lip, "Buffy... w-we were... you know, thinking about how you haven't... been feeling well and we thought we could do something to cheer you up."

Buffy plopped down on the couch, "Like what?"

Willow hesitated, unsure of how to suggest it; Tara stepped forward instead, clearing her throat. "W-we thought you might want to t-try something... new." She waited for Buffy to reply, but when she didn't, she reached into Willow's back pocket, pulling a small baggy.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, "Weed?"

"It's okay if you don't want to," Willow said, snatching the bag from her girlfriends hands. "We'll just put this up and-"

"Willow!" Buffy interrupted. The room stood still, everyone nervously awaiting Buffy's response; even Spike looked surprised. Buffy had never really had time to try stuff like that; she was always too busy with slaying. She stood, taking the bag from Willow's hand and inspecting it, "Is it safe?"

Xander laughed, bringing heat to Buffy's cheeks, "It's fine, Buffy."

"How would you know?"

Xander's chin fell to his chest, "Well, uh..." He looked to the others for help, but the rest seemed to have scattered to opposite sides of the room.

"Xander went through a phase," Anya said matter-of-factly. "Who would you always talk about, sweetie? Bob Something?"

"Marley," Xander muttered.

"Yes!" Anya said excitedly. "Bob did it and he turned out okay, right?"

The group shifted uncomfortably on their feet before Tara chimed in again. "W-we've all sort of... tried it, Buffy."

"It's not a big thing," Xander added.

Buffy rubbed her fingers over the baggy, uneasy. From behind her, a quiet _crack_ came from the kitchen; Spike held a beer in his hand, a mischievous smile on his face. "Well, then. Let's get this party started."

A little baggy of weed wasn't the only thing the witches had procured. They had magic powders and plants along with a couple of vials of glowing liquids. Buffy said no to those at first, but it wasn't soon after the smoke was blowing and the liquor was flowing that she suggested they bring them out again. Turns out, Buffy was quite the wild one once you gave her the opportunity to let her hair down. She grabbed the cigar from that hung from Spike's lips, taking a long drag. The smoke dragged down her throat, filling up her chest and making her brain buzz in her head. She floated there for a moment, before coughing it back out. Spike laughed at her; he had just downed an entire vial of something red and bitter and his head was in the clouds. Tara and Anya danced lucidly in the corner, there arms linked and lazy grins on their faces. Xander, the only one brave he enough to drink out of the glass of blue liquid and labeled 'grin'. Now, he sat behind Willow, attempting to braid her hair with an inhuman grin on his face. "I'm bored," Anya sighed, still spinning in dreamy circles. "Let's go to a real party, you know, like at the Bronze."

"Bored?" Spike scoffed. "How could you be bored after that rousing game of spin the bottle where nobody was actually willing to kiss anybody?

Anya ignored him, "Come on! Lets go to the Bronze! There's music and young, attractive people who could also possibly be as inebriated as we are."

Buffy's eyes widened at the idea, a childlike smile on her face, "Oo, can we?"

There wasn't much argument from anyone, but it did take a while to arrive there. It took them several tries to agree on the correct route and by the time they arrived, the youngest of the crowd were already at home in their beds. Anya and Xander had been arguing over a comment she had made about the man next door who was 'really quite handsome if you take a minute to look at him in the right light' and now they were literally screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. Willow and Tara spun aimlessly around just on the outskirts of the dance floor, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Buffy felt a pang of jealousy shoot through her gut, or maybe it was loneliness, she couldn't tell through the mist in her head. Without looking back at him, she grabbed Spike's hand, pulling him onto the dance floor behind her. She turned to face him, placing a hand on his neck and swinging her hips back and forth. "You do realize who you're dancing with?" he said, not moving.

She pushed her body closer to his, rapping her other arm around his neck, "Are you telling me to stop?"

He thought for a moment; if he had a heart, it would be beating fast. Slowly, he placed each of his hands on her hips, allowing her to grind against his. In the back of his head, maybe around where the chip was, he wondered what she would say in the morning; something inside of him knew the answer. Buffy lived in denial, so what would make her accept that this was happening? What part of her brain would be willing to tell someone (even if it was just herself) she was there and he was there and they danced and they let each other's hands and mouths wander over one another. Her skin glowed red under the lights which was appropriate because every time he touched her, his nerves felt like he was touching fire. They were both breathing hard, and even with whatever superior strength they had, their muscles cried out for them to stop, but they stayed there for hours. It finally came time to stop when the club was shutting down and people were slowly grabbing their things and preparing to leave (or find somewhere that stayed open later). By that time, Anya and Xander had made up, both of them fondling the other in the same corner they had been. Willow and Tara were found outside, smoking a cigar and holding hands. By that time, they were coming down and were ready for bed. The group walked together in a peaceful silence down the quiet roads. Buffy's mind stumbled across vampires; she should have been patrolling, looking for deadly vampires and not holding hands with one. _Oh yeah, that's where my hand is_. She glanced down at it, Spike's black nails peaking out from the crevices of her small fingers. It was nice having them there; she didn't feel so alone. In fact, she felt anything but what she had been feeling since she had come back from heaven. Once they approached the cemetery, Buffy realized that she was going to have to let go of him. There was an awkward pause between the two, but the rest of the group didn't even seem to notice them; they continued down the street, uninterested. Buffy pulled her hand from Spike's, looking down at her feet. She was coming down from her high, but she still felt like she was floating. Spike took a lock of her hair in between her fingers, "Well, it's been a great game of pretend', pet."

Her eyebrows knit together as she came to meet his eyes, "I guess... I really should go." He brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, not saying anything. He took one last second to soak it in before he let her leave. Instead she moved closer to him, bringing her face a couple of inches from hers. "So you want me to go?"

He looked surprised, blowing smoke to the side so it wouldn't get in her face, "I didn't take you for one to ask questions you already know the answer to."

"Then I won't ask any questions," she said, quietly. Her face met his slowly, and at first, he couldn't move. He racked his brain to think of what he had taken earlier... some sort of hallucinogen, maybe. She brushed against his lips gently waiting for him to respond, and he did. He smashed his face against hers, fully taking advantage of the one time this could probably ever happen. They broke apart a few times, offering lame excuses about wanting to take a look around the cemetery just once... you know, just in case. They ended up outside of Spike's crypt where he broke away from her one last time. "You should go," he said, a frown on his face. "I wouldn't want you to do anything you'll regret in the morning."

Buffy frowned, leaning in close to his ear. "Are you going to turn me away?"

"Seems to me that the wrong person is asking that question."

Buffy was shaking, and the world around her was spinning. Soon, everything would clear up again and she would be alone. She didn't want to think of what everyone would say, she didn't want to think about how wrong it was for her as a slayer, and she didn't want to think about all the wrong Spike had done. She pulled him close again, a smile in her eyes. "I don't think you're in a position to say no."

"Well, when you decide I'm not good enough anymore, I hope you remember what you're feeling right now."

"Shut up," she said with a smirk.

He slammed her body up against the inside of the crypt, a loud crack of the wall echoing around the room. Buffy pushed back, throwing herself over his body on the floor. She was everywhere; her back and her chest in his hands, her thighs holding strong around his, and the heat from in between them rubbed against the growing bulge in his pants. He slipped his hands under her shirt, rubbing the wonderfully soft skin of her stomach and chest until he finally just slipped it off. He rolled over on top of her, burying his face in her neck and hair; the sound of her racing pulse loud in his ears. "I love you," he mumbled over and over again. He realized that at any second, she could change her mind, but she didn't stop him when they were both naked and rolling around on top of each other, not when he kissed down the soft skin of her breasts all the way down to between her legs, not even when she felt him inside of her.

Buffy knew that the high was gone, but nothing stopped her from doing what she did. Now it wasn't some stupid potion that kept her drunk, but it was Spike. She clung to him, literally digging her nails into his skin for fear that he turn to dust on top of her. She shook that thought from her head, shook every thought from her head, really. All that was there was Spike; _her Spike_. She knew that she would regret in the morning, she knew that she would have to leave him there and pretend that she didn't feel something, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was there and she was there and, for the moment, they belonged to each other.


End file.
